Voyeur
by Corky the Quirk
Summary: Charlie Dalton and Steven Meeks are having trouble finding a time and place for certain kinds of rendezvous.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Okay, this story idea was propositioned to me by Cloudy, who was kind enough to allow me to write it, and thus it is dedicated to her. :) It's short, but hopefully it satisfies!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own DPS.

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><p>Richard Cameron was used to being ignored, or at the very least shoved to the back of his friends' minds, until the perfect insult was prepared or someone needed help with trigonometry. He just never expected that he'd be so blatantly disregarded in his own room.<p>

Charlie Dalton is currently pressing Steven Meeks so far into the creaky mattress that it appears as if Meeks is being consumed by the bed. Their hands are everywhere: fondling pectorals, slipping down pants, running up shirts, tangling in hair, cupping necks. It's a frenzy.

And Cameron knows this is wrong. Not only is it against school regulations, but it's just plain wrong. And he knows he should turn them in; and he would, too!...if only it weren't so damn hot to watch. He can't help but stare: wide-eyed, blankets and sheets pulled up to his chin and tucked securely around him.

Charlie presses his pelvis against Meeks, grinding, smirking, and allowing a low moan to pass over his lips and into Meeks' mouth.

That's when Cameron lets out a small squeak of desire, unable to stop himself or at least try to pass it off as some sort of noise one makes in their sleep.

Meeks freezes, but Charlie bolts up, eyes instantly connecting with those of his roommate's. Before Cameron knows it Charlie's jumped across the distance between their beds and now has the voyeuristic ginger pinned in place, almost the same as with Meeks on the opposite side of the room. Charlie is smirking down at Cameron, but the glint in his eye is anything but kind. "You've been watching us the whole time, haven't you?" he guesses, shoving Cameron further into the mattress. "Now, Dick," Charlie continues in an amiable tone. "If you let word of this slip—ever—I'm going to have to say you were involved, too, if you know what I mean." He tilts his head to the side and grins down at his silent roommate, who merely gulps before nodding his head rapidly. "Good," Charlie states before sliding off—full hard-on grazing Cameron's leg—and shrugging at Meeks as if to say, "Better luck next time," because you can be sure there will be a next time.

And Cameron can't help but wish that he really could be a part of it.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> Up next, Gerard Pitts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** And here is the concluding bit of this little two-shot thing. There won't be any updates from me for a while, for I'll be out of the country for a few weeks. I'm going to try and write on the planes/trains/forms of transportation I'm taking while gone, so we'll see what happens. Until then, enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the boys, however I do think I invented the ship at the end...mwhahaha, new OTP...

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><p>Gerard Pitts was having his recurring Smurfette dream, in which they danced to the <em>Blob<em> theme music on the arc of a rainbow as large-eyed aliens floated around them, moving their pelvises a la Elvis, when he was woken by the sound of a loud groan. He figured it was only Meeks having accidentally kicked the wall of fallen out of bed, something the intellectually advanced poet had never quite seemed to grow out of.

However, when Pitts cracked an eye open, he noticed that Meeks was not on the floor, but very much in bed. And Charlie Dalton, who was also very much in bed, was keeping Meeks company. Pitts' eyes widened—not out of shock at what was happening, after all, you love who you love and Pitts wasn't one to stand in the way of such an amazing emotion, but in fear of getting caught accidentally watching the pair. Deciding that he needed to convince the two that he was still asleep, Pitts let out a small snore, causing the poets across the room to pause in their actions.

Pitts inwardly groaned. His snore must not have been convincing enough. So taking a deep breath, he released an even louder and more ridiculous sounding snore.

There was another groan from across the room—this time with an irritated air about it—and a creak of mattress springs as Charlie slid off the bed—and off of Meeks—and plodded across the small space between the to beds to inspect Pitts.

"I think he's awake," Meeks whispered hoarsely. In fact, Meeks was sure Pitts was awake, considering Pitts didn't snore.

Charlie poked Pitts in the side with his index finger, receiving a loud, disgruntled snort in response. "Pittsie, we know you're awake," Charlie informed his fellow poet in annoyance.

Pitts, still hoping to persuade Charlie and Steven, let out a round of snores that even the most idiotic student would recognize as fake. Charlie let out a frustrated huff, glanced over at Meeks, and shuffled out of the room in defeat. He wouldn't have a problem continuing to tongue Steven while Pitts was awake, but he knew Meeks would never go for such a thing. Prude.

Creeping back to his room, Charlie would have slammed the door, but he was much too embarrassingly aroused and in no mood to face anybody as he crawled under the covers and wondered whether he could take care of business without waking Cameron.

Next door, Knox Overstreet and George Hopkins were lucky enough not to have to endure nosey roommates or roommates that attempted to make out with other Welton boys, for they were their own roommates and they were the ones making out.

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><p><strong>Author's Note:<strong> I call it Knopkins...


End file.
